


Just Like the Ones I Used to Know

by apanoplyofsong



Series: let your heart be light [10]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas, Exes, F/M, Snowed In
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 09:13:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13120668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apanoplyofsong/pseuds/apanoplyofsong
Summary: "Want to come up? I think we still have some food leftover from our holiday party, and a couch that will be more comfortable if we’re stuck here for a while.”Bellamy hesitates, then slides in just as the door starts to close.“If you don’t mind being stuck with me.”“Don’t worry,” says Clarke, bumping her shoulder against his. “You’re still my favorite ex.”





	Just Like the Ones I Used to Know

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kacka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kacka/gifts).



> Kac suggested exes who get snowed in together when I was lamenting being without a single holiday fic idea, and this is pretty far from angsty but it is that.  
> This barely got read through once and was a little bit like pulling teeth because holy hell this year has been d r a i n i n g, but it's here, it's written, it's in whatever way done. Title from White Christmas, ofc.

Clarke doesn’t even notice the snow until she hears the cursing.

And, well, once she notices _who’s_ cursing, she’s too distracted to really care about the weather.

“Bellamy?”

The head lifts from where he was half-bent over the door and it is him. Older and scruffier and hair falling into his eyes, but undeniably Bellamy. The first person she ever fell in love with.

“Clarke?”

She smiles, walking across the office building’s lobby to where he stands. “Hi.”

“Hey.” He’s staring at her like he’s not quite sure she’s real, and Clarke gets it. She’s resisting the urge to touch him just to be sure, herself.

If anyone had asked, Clarke would have said she hoped he was doing well. Bellamy was her first real relationship, the first thing that had felt precious and serious and hers. They had dated for two years in high school but decided long distance didn’t feel healthy after their first semester at colleges a thousand miles apart. They were friendly the rest of that winter break, said they would keep in touch when they both went back to school, but life and class and other relationships had happened and, well.

Now he’s standing in front of her, in the same town, bag slung across his shoulder like he’s also leaving work the weekend before Christmas.

“What are you--” They both start at the same time, and Bellamy smiles, sheepish.

“I think the door’s stuck,” he says, gesturing behind him. “I’ve been trying to get it open but the snow’s wedged against it pretty well. I was going to text Miller, see if he could get it open from the other side.”

“Huh.” Sure enough, the wind has driven snow up against the door several feet, packed thick and building with fat flakes peppering the windows. “I thought moving someplace it snows regularly meant I’d miss out on the weatherproofing mishaps.”

“Yeah, your mistake was choosing a small town.”

When the back door proves to be iced shut as well, Clarke sighs and starts towards the elevator. “Apparently. Want to come up? I think we still have some food leftover from our holiday party, and a couch that will be more comfortable if we’re stuck here for a while.”

Bellamy tarries for a moment, then slides in just as the door starts to close.

“If you don’t mind being stuck with me.”

“Don’t worry,” says Clarke, bumping her shoulder against his. “You’re still my favorite ex.”

His head dips on a laugh, but Clarke catches the edge of his smile.

“How did you end up here?” she asks as the elevator dings and lets them off.

“The university in town hired me at their publishing house. Their office is on the third floor. And since I’ve only been there a few months, I got stuck playing catch-up before the holidays.” Bellamy leans against the wall as she unlocks the suite door. He’s not as tall as she remembers, but he looks just as good. Better, even. Like he's grown into himself. “What about you?”

“Design firm,” Clarke nods to the etched name on the wall as they walk through the space towards the kitchen. “School let out early today so half of the office was gone by the afternoon, and I like working when it’s quiet. I got a little caught up. Cookies, or crackers with salami?”

Together they put together a small feast of what they can find in the fridge--half of a cheese board, some lunch meats, two walls of a gingerbread house, a pitcher of surprisingly spiked horchata.

Bellamy’s phone chimes once it’s all spread out and he snorts when he checks it. “It’s Miller,” he explains. “Apparently the deicing truck got stuck behind a snowbank, so it’s going to be a while.”

Clarke hums around the chip in her mouth, then frowns.

“Wait, Nathan Miller? From high school?”

“Yep, he works for the city now.” Bellamy smirks, teasing and familiar. “Small world, huh, princess?”

Nobody’s called her that since him, and it makes her cheeks flush pink, the back of her neck hot to hear it again. She looks down at a piece of gingerbread, picking the gumdrops off like it’s the most normal thing in the world to be sitting in her office’s kitchen with a man she hasn’t seen in 5 years.

“Yeah. Small world.”

It’s still easy to talk to him, catching up on the things they’ve missed. He tells her about college and the submissions he’s reviewing, and she shows him the product sketches she’s been working on. It feels familiar and new and exciting all at once. Clarke almost wonders if it’s too cliché: seeing your high school sweetheart again and finding that you still love the person they’ve become.

Because, well, she’s just getting to know this Bellamy, but she thinks she could. Thinks they may have grown in ways that still make sense together.

Or, at the very least, they could probably get dinner.

They’re slumped against each other on the couch, catching their breath from laughing at Clarke’s story of the time she had to climb through her friend’s window in full Halloween costume by the time Bellamy asks when she changed her mind about medical school.

“Not that you need a big reason,” he adds. “You just still seemed pretty set on it after your first semester.”

“My dad died.” Clarke wets her lips and gives a small shrug, shoulder brushing against his. “And it just--didn’t feel important anymore, you know? For me to be a doctor over anything else.”

Clarke can feel Bellamy studying her and tries not to fidget.

“Octavia and I don’t really talk anymore,” he finally says, after a moment of quiet. Clarke turns to watch him as he speaks--the Blake siblings had been uncommonly close, and he looks wry and a little sad as he explains. “It’s better for both of us, really; having some distance. That’s part of why I moved here, actually. Figured I’d go someplace they actually wanted me.”

She only hesitates for a second before she lets herself lean her head on his shoulder, lace their fingers together. Clarke squeezes his hand gently and he squeezes back, his head coming to rest on top of hers.

“You’re definitely wanted here.”  

It’s another hour before Miller gets there with a shovel and a thermos of hot water to open the door. They both linger inside for a moment, warm off sugar and laughter and just a little bit of booze, and it’s good, Clarke thinks. This could still be so good.

“If you’re not leaving town for Christmas, you should come over Christmas Eve. We’re having a party--nothing big, mostly a lot of food,” Bellamy says. His hands are shoved deep in his pockets and his ears are tinged a little red, but he has a smile on his face that looks an awful lot like hope. “Or we could just get drinks sometime. It’d be good to see you again, either way.”

Clarke grins. “Yeah, I’d like that. Both the party and the drinks.”

They exchange phone numbers and Clarke presses her lips against his cheek before she turns to go, watching his eyes crinkle up with delight as she walks backwards.

“You know,” she says,  skin still tingling from the scratch of his beard, “I have a feeling it’s going to be a very merry Christmas.”

His laughter follows her out into the snow, and it turns out she’s right.

It really, really is.

**Author's Note:**

> The one time it snowed while I was in college, the state deicing truck got stuck on the road because of ice, so that shows both my level of knowledge about regularly occurring snow and a source of entertainment I have carried with me for years. 
> 
> I'm on [tumblr](http://apanoplyoffic.tumblr.com/) more regularly.


End file.
